Introduction: Jake Ryan Is Love

(Listen to Altered Images' "Happy Birthday")

Remember Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles? The mega-hunk with tousled brown hair, chiseled features, and dreamy, bedroom eyes that girls swooned over in the eighties? No? Well, shame on you. There is no way on this planet that you do not know the ideal man.

For those of you who do remember him you probably aren't surprised at my childish infatuation. John Hughes' movies are like how-to guides for every curious, hormonal teenage girl, and Jake Ryan, apart from all the other leading man-boys of the brat pack, is godlike. Simply divine. Yet, as I recall every ogle session I've had with friends over my main man, J. R., I noticed that his appeal, though universal, is had for reasons various and far between. What is loved about him is not the same for each girl.

So, what is it specifically that makes Jake Ryan the ultimate guy pour moi?

His style!

Wait a minute. Let me explain myself!

I am not shallow nor am I vapid. I am quite the opposite. In fact, in the third grade I crushed super hard on the one boy in my class with black-rimmed glasses and pre-pubescent acne named Isaac because he said that I was "über-smart" and maybe even "a heck of a lot smarter than everyone else in the classroom." Honestly, I think I was mostly impressed with Isaac because he had successfully used the very convenient German adverb "über" in an actual sentence at eight years old. A feat for even some adults.

Inadvertently, that was also the year I started to get into astronomy and my third grade teacher Ms. Krystal Burgers (total coincidence) was an astronomy major in college. One day, the same day actually Blueberry Mary puked all over the blackboard because her mom forgot to pack blueberries in her lunch, right in the middle of class Ms. Burgers started to spew out astronomical jargon to a room full of eight year olds as if we would grasp such conceptualism. She was a weirdo. Luckily, at that point in my astro-studies I had already reached types of galaxies and their purpose—a rather advanced level—and I was fully prepared to respond to her fluently in a very similar scientific manner. To say Ms. Burgers was ecstatic would be an understatement. Briefly, she and I shared our views on the "redshift controversy" and set up a time after school for her to tutor me. She was a cool weirdo.

Anyway, our conversation only confused my fellow classmates and eventually confirmed the terrible lie of my being, in the words of Blueberry Mary, a "smarty-pants" (read: nerd). At that moment I had made the incredible mistake of ruining so delicate a thing as my reputation so early on in my grade school career. Those turns of events have been the most unfortunate to happen to an already bizarre person, and I have been since grade three until now, my senior year in high school, the "dork who reads about stars."

Yeah. I just love school.

So, back to Ryan.

Yes, Jake Ryan was more striking in appearance than Molly Ringwald's leading man in the Breakfast Club, John Bender; he was significantly more manly than our eccentric (and beloved) Duckmeister in Pretty in Pink; and he was also – and I may eat my words for this later – much more interesting than the blue-eyed angel Blane McDonnagh. Yet in spite of all that—the looks, the mystique, and the definitive manhood factor—Jake Ryan had that outfit. He first appeared on screen with it and rocked it throughout that entire movie.

The combat boots reminiscent of '80s British punks; the deep blue denim jeans bottom-cuffed James Dean style; and the prep pink Oxford button-down underneath the wool grandfather sweater vest all accentuate his recklessness and effortless poise—not the poise necessarily found in a dancer's gait but more the poise of a brusque maple or even a grazing animal. The subtly in his pieces reveal something about his manner. Not just any boy can mix genres fashionable and with taste.

It would be redundant to admit here that Ryan's outfit cemented my love lust for him. I can only reiterate that as you watch him next time on the screen you forget that square jaw and those hooded eyes, forget the sultry, baritone voice, and forget the chestnut hair. But always remember the clothes.

And since I have remembered the clothes detail by detail, I am quite capable of distinguishing an Average Joe from a Jake Ryan merely from thread count.

Uh, I think I found a Jake Ryan in my school.

And he's a pompous jerk!


Hi, guys!

Let me know if I should continue this story since I don't know if it's compelling stuff or not.

This is my first time writing for an audience other than my English teacher, so Be Kind!

If you have a question, leave me a pm and I'll be sure to get back to you promptly.

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